


Of Dogs And Children

by Lafaiette



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Dogs, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-19 00:55:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2368298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafaiette/pseuds/Lafaiette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What do you have there?”</p><p>“Look, look!” Peter giggles and reaches out for the abat-jour on the nightstand; light finally fills the room and Wade, propping himself on an elbow, sees the bright, joyous face of his Peter and in his arms…</p><p>“A <i>puppy</i>?”</p><p>In which Wade and Peter rescue a little dog and think about the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Dogs And Children

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LaLunaWritesStuff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaLunaWritesStuff/gifts).



> Gift for LaLunaWritesStuff, because they are my muse and I adore their Spideypool fanfics ( ´ ▽ ` )

Wade hears the door open with the noise and creaks now so familiar and smiles into the pillow. Peter came back from work a bit later than usual and he squints in the darkness of the bedroom, staring at the hallway scarcely illuminated by the setting sun.

“Petey!” he calls to let him know where he is - he decided to rest down a bit because his scars were starting to hurt a lot. His smile grows when he hears Peter’s light footsteps approach. His baby boy always makes sure to go to him as soon as he’s home, without even taking off his jacket or putting away his bag first.

Wade opens wide his arms when he sees Peter’s silhouette on the doorframe; he vaguely notices his smile and something else too, an off detail that he can’t quite grasp… but it doesn’t matter, because Peter is bending down, kissing his lips, and Wade wraps his arms around him, pushing him down.

“Welcome back, Peter.” he whispers sweetly, smooching his cheek; Peter laughs breathlessly and starts talking fast, like he does when he’s excited, happy or overly enthusiastic. Wade can hear the smile in his voice.

“Wade, honey, something happened and…! Oh, don’t hold me so tight, wait…!”

“What?” Wade blinks up at him, then pouts. “But I want to hug you!”

That’s when he hears a whining sound and freezes, putting his hands on Peter’s shoulder to push him and stare at his folded arms… folded like he’s holding something.

“What do you have there?”

“Look, look!” Peter giggles and reaches out for the abat-jour on the nightstand; light finally fills the room and Wade, propping himself on an elbow, sees the bright, joyous face of his Peter and in his arms…

“A _puppy_?”

A little, brown dog, with a cloth wrapped around itself, raises its tiny nose and looks at Wade, its eyes sweet and innocent. The merc gulps and looks up at Peter, who is doing his best not to bounce on his feet.

“I found him in an alleyway near The Daily Bugle.” he explains and his smile fades away. “He… he was all alone and it was cold, he was crying and…”

“It’s a male?” Wade tentatively touches the little snout and the puppy licks his finger, waving his tail. Wade groans, feeling already weak and without defenses. Peter’s smile doesn’t help either.

“He is cute.” Wade mumbles and keeps stroking the soft fur with a single finger, blushing when the little one licks his hand, without minding the scars and bumps on it. Peter looks like he is in heaven and stares down at them with bright, happy eyes.

“What if he has fleas though?” the merc suddenly asks. Peter’s safety and health always come first and he frowns, studying the puppy’s fur and body, looking for anomalies. “What if he has rabies?”

“His fur isn’t ruined and I can’t see any other sign of illness.” Peter replies, but his expression is thoughtful and a bit worried. “Maybe it would be better to go see a veterinary, though. Just to be careful, I don’t want him to have a fever or feel bad.”

Wade raises his eyebrows, staring at Peter, who has started brushing the puppy’s tiny head and long ears.

The sight warms his heart, especially when the dog licks Peter’s chin and the young man giggles, talking to him in that special, cute voice everyone uses with pets. Wade sits on the edge of the bed, not sure of what to do. Does Peter want to keep him?

He loves dogs; they don’t judge, they love people despite their look and they see humanity in everyone. Wade always respected them, just as they respected him.

But he sucks at taking care of other beings. Hell, he isn’t even that good at taking care of himself and he is so lucky to have Peter at his side, guiding him when he has no idea of how to proceed or act with himself! He is afraid of hurting the little guy or inadvertently ruining his already short, canine life.

He fidgets on the bed, observing Peter and the puppy; the latter is waving quickly his tail, making happy sounds when Peter caresses his head or talks to him. Then the young man locks eyes with Wade and grins.

“Here! Hold him.”

“W-What?” Wade jerks away, but Peter is already handing him the puppy with gentleness and the scarred man can’t really say no to him, not when he is looking so happy and moved.

He awkwardly takes the dog in his arms and sees how small and delicate he really is; compared to his arms and body, he looks minuscule.

“What… what do I do?” he babbles and blushes again when the puppy takes the initiative and licks his wrists, raising a tiny paw to play with it. Wade barely notices Peter’s presence next to him on the bed.

“He likes you.” the young man giggles and Wade scrunches up his face, trying to decide whether accept this responsibility or not. Peter hasn’t said it yet, but he knows what he would like to do.

“You want to keep him, don’t you?” Wade snorts, looking at him with an amused expression, which becomes fond and tender when Peter’s face flushes and he casts down his eyes, shy.

“He… he was all alone.” he repeats. “We could leave him at some dog shelter, I know, but… but they aren’t very good. Not always.”

Wade’s heart makes a jump when he imagines the cute ball of fur inside a cage, waiting for someone to take him amidst hundreds of other dogs. He instinctively holds the puppy closer to his chest and the little one barks cheerfully at him, his tiny paws tickling his naked, scarred skin.

“Mpf.” the merc snorts, a corner of his mouth raising. “He wants to lick my face. Crazy, little fellow.”

“He has good tastes.” Peter says softly, resting his head on Wade’s shoulder, and Wade sighs, scared to make a disaster with this new, particular life being, but knowing he can’t - and doesn’t want - to back up now.

He needs to make something clear though.

“I don’t know how to care for a dog, Peter.” he says, shaking his head, eyes large with worry. “I had one once, but Blind Al and Weasel mostly cared about him. I love dogs, I really do, but…!”

“I don’t know how to do that either, Wade.” Peter replies, kissing his cheek. “But we can learn together. We can look for info on the web and…”

“Heh.” Wade grins at him. “You said ‘web’!”

Peter swats his arm, smiling, and continues: “… And we will bring him to a veterinary, to make sure he’s okay, to know what he needs to eat and so on. Our apartment is pretty big, so I don’t think his size will be a problem. Maybe he won’t even grow up much.”

“We have two very special jobs.” Wade reminds him, not because he wants to find at all costs a reason to not keep the dog, but because he wants to have a clear image of the situation before deciding to do this. The pup has calmed down and is nuzzling his hand; Wade gently strokes his back, smiling when the little one starts waving his tail again.

“I am usually at home by lunch and just one of your missions is enough for us to last for two entire months, so we will be able to stay with him and spend a lot of time together.” Peter smiles and adds with amusement: “Apart from your mercenary job for S.H.I.E.L.D. and mine at The Daily Bugle, we are not that busy.”

“What about the Avengers? Special missions and shit like that?” The more he looks at the puppy, the more he wants to keep him and all the cons he’s listing only makes him nervous. He is super grateful when Peter finds the solutions for these issues as well.

“You know we don’t go on special, extra-planetary missions since years. And if that happens, we could leave him with another hero or Aunt May. Oh, Wade, she will love him, she always adored dogs! And he won’t always be a puppy, he will grow up, mature and learn. He will get used to our lifestyle.”

“And the patrols?” Wade turns to Peter, praying he has a good, logic answer for this too; if a sudden complication comes up, he knows he wouldn’t want to keep the pup, too worried about his wellbeing to risk his discomfort and unease. He would tell Peter he doesn’t want to hurt him, to give him a bad life, and to look for someone who might want him. The mere thought almost makes him cry.

He has been holding the dog only for some minutes and he has already grown fond of him. Great.

Thankfully Peter smiles and reassures him, stroking his back: “We go out at night only for a few hours; he will sleep and wait for our return, after an entire day spent in our company. Also, one of us could stay at home or we could both stay, like we already do, when we are too tired or the Avengers are enough to keep an eye on the city. It will be okay, Wade.”

Wade snorts and presses their heads together, gazing back down at the puppy who is nuzzling his hand.

“You really want to keep him, huh?”

“You do too!” Peter laughs, then he bounces slightly on the bed, grinning and biting his lips in excitement, and Wade understands his unpronounced question.

“Okay, he can stay.” he gives up, joy exploding in his heart as well. Peter squeals - _squeals_ \- in delight and wraps his arms around him, whispering as he peppers his face with kisses: “Thank you, thank you!”

“As long as he doesn’t piss on our stuff or chew your books and my weapons…” the merc jokes and the puppy, who has found his wristwatch, starts munching it.

“Hey, fleabag! Don’t make me change my mind!” Wade pokes him on the neck with extreme delicateness and the dog barks playfully, going back to lick his fingers. Peter leans in again and presses soft kisses on Wade’s cheek and the merc feels warm inside.

“We will have to find him a name!”  
  


\- - -  
  


The first thing they do is washing the little one; he is not very dirty, so they assume he has been probably been abandoned that same day, but a delicate scrub is necessary. Peter looks up some info on the internet and when they know all they need to know, they fill a small part of the bathtub with hot water and start cleaning the puppy.

He seems to love the water… a lot. And Wade tries to keep him still - he really does -, but he is afraid of hurting him, so he just holds his sides while the dog spills droplets everywhere and shakes his body every time Peter pours warm water on him.

After only an hour, the bathroom is a disaster, but the puppy is washed and dry, a warm, old towel wrapped around his tiny body, and Peter uses some cushions they don’t need to make a comfortable bed for him. While he tucks the puppy under a short blanket, Wade cleans the bathtub and grimaces, realizing this is _their_ bathtub, the place where he and Peter wash themselves and make love, pressed against each other, skin against skin.

He puts an extra dose of detergent into it, just in case.

When the bathroom is in a decent state and doesn’t smell like wet dog anymore, he finally comes out and stops on the doorframe, watching Peter as he tenderly caresses the sleeping dog’s head, a smile on his face.

It’s a beautiful sight and Wade blushes, staring at them until Peter senses his gaze and turns to him, his smile still there.

“Hungry?” he asks and Wade nods, smiling back.

They prepare lunch together like always, joking and talking as usual, but Wade notices how Peter keeps his voice low and glances back at the puppy sleeping in the dining room. Instead of eating at the kitchen counter or in front of the TV as always, they sit at the table, just next to the cushions, and Peter eats his meat and salad while looking at the little guy.

Wade looks at them both and something stirs in his heart, a sensation, a special feeling, a craving he can’t comprehend nor give a name to. When the puppy smells the scent of cooked meat, he opens his eyes, raises his head and stares at the table and at the two men sitting at it. He quickly gets up and goes to Peter, touching his feet with a paw, whining softly.

“Oh, sweetie, I don’t know if I can give you this!” Peter looks torn between making the puppy happy and making sure his stomach stay in good conditions. He looks at Wade and the merc looks back at him with horror.

“I-I don’t know! Maybe he shouldn’t eat that though…”

“You are right, he is too young.” Peter gently taps the puppy’s head and the dog complains with a bark. “We are going to the vet later! He will give you the right food, sweetie!”

“… He could become a werewolf.” Wade grumbles, concluding his reasoning, and Peter looks back at him, blinks, then bursts out laughing.

“What?! It’s true! He probably never ate meat before and just tasting it could make him become a blood-lusted beast!”

“Dogs don’t work like that, Wade, that’s one of the few things I am sure about.”

The puppy now tries to bribe Wade with his cute eyes and the merc whines louder than him, pursing his lips into a thin line, furrowing his brow.

“He has your same doe eyes, Peter! What kind of dog is this?? A Peter breed?”

The pup stands up on two legs and rests his muzzle on Wade’s thigh, looking up at him from under his short eyelashes. Wade’s lips start trembling.

“Down.” he says in the most commanding tone he can muster, but the dog only starts waving his tail faster and Wade sighs through his nose, moves a hand near to him and the puppy licks it, without interrupting eye contact.

Wade snorts and examines his plate, trying to find something he can give the dog; there are only two meatballs left and he shakes his head, talking to the pup: “Sorry, buddy, there is nothing here for you. Go make those doe eyes to your human twin.”

He hears Peter giggle and looks up at him, smiling, the special feeling growing stronger inside him.

“How should we call him…?” the young man muses when the puppy has finally given up and has gone back to his bed.

“Peter junior.”

“Wade.”

“That’s my name!” the merc exclaims, squealing when Peter throws his napkin at him. “Okay, no Peter junior! It’s so _fitting_ , though, his fur and eyes are brown like your hair and irises…”

“You are so romantic.” Peter deadpans, his lips curling into an amused smirk, and Wade grins.

“Everyone would want to be called like an adorable puppy!”

“Then let’s call him Wade junior!”

“That’s the name of my dick.”

Peter sighs fondly and looks at the apartment, then at the puppy, then at the apartment again, searching for inspiration; Wade finds the solution before him.

“Oooh, I got it! I got it!”

He picks up the littlest meatball on his plate and shows it to Peter, his grin bigger than ever.

“Meatball…?” Peter says and Wade nods quickly.

“It’s _perfect_ , Petey! It’s brown and small like him and there is a nice ring to ‘ball’ at the end. It’s one of my favorite words.” he winks and Peter can’t hold back his laughter.

“Did you hear that, Meatball?” Wade says, turning back to the pillows where the dog is resting. The pup raises his head again, thinking he’s going to get some food, and Wade tells him: “When you will start licking your own balls, this name will be even more fitting! Way more than Peter junior!”

“Thanks, honey.” Peter comments, poking his ankle with a feet, and Wade starts playing footsie with him, licking the meatball before putting it in his mouth.

“Dork.” Peter laughs and they finish their meal, still brushing their feet together under the table.

  
Peter finds the number and address of an old, expert veterinary with a good feedback and they decide to bring the puppy to him the same day. The visit doesn’t last long and they are happy to know Meatball is in good conditions, that he has no illness or issues of any kind and that he can start eating kibbles.

“Don’t spoil him too much.” the vet suggests them; he tends to look mostly at Peter, probably unsettled by Wade’s scars, still visible even under the hoodie, but he is kind and treats the dog with great gentleness and patience. Wade refrains from glaring at him for this reason.

“He won’t grow much, so a normal sized apartment will be more than enough for him. Once he is a bit older, make sure to take him out for a walk often.” the veterinary smiles and pats the puppy’s head. “You are a good, sweet fella, aren’t you?”

They thank him and the old man assures them he will always be there in case of necessity; he also suggests them a good brand of food, then extends his hand. Peter shakes it, but the vet doesn’t pull it away; he looks at Wade expectantly and the mercenary clears his throat and shakes it as well, muttering another ‘thank you’.

On the way back home, they stop by a supermarket to buy all the necessary things and Peter has to use his sternest gaze and put his hands on his hips to stop Wade from buying a collar with “BITCH” written on it.

They buy a classy, normal, pink one and when they put it around Meatball’s neck, the pup barks happily and they know he likes it.

The first issue happens at night.

They put Meatball’s new, comfy bed in the living room and, after watching some TV together, they go to sleep, closing the bedroom door like always. Wade didn’t miss the soft kiss Peter pressed on the dog’s head and he kneels to stroke the puppy’s neck as well.

“Dream about running in fields or whatever dogs dream about, okay, buddy?”

Meatball licks his wrist and Wade stays with him for a few more moments, enjoying his affection and sweet stares. He really looks like a dog version of Peter, he muses with a smile.

He tenses up and sharply turns his head when he hears a familiar ‘snap’. Peter is standing under the bedroom door and has just taken a picture of the scene before him.

“Aw, Peter!” Wade groans, blushing, and the young man lets out his beautiful, happy laughter.

“Sorry, sorry! But you two were so cute I had to take this!”

Wade begrudgingly accepts to keep the photo, but takes his revenge by pinching Peter’s butt.

The picture is not the problem, though. Actually he doesn’t mind it when Peter takes pictures of him, because it means he loves seeing his face immortalized and put around the house; Wade has a different opinion about his scars, but as long as he can smile next to Peter and be part of his life, he would gladly accept to be in any kind of picture.

When they are finally in bed and Wade starts pinching other parts of Peter’s body, while the young man kisses his neck and slowly pulls away their boxers, the whining begins.

At first it’s a low, inaudible sound, then it grows louder and Peter stills, staring at the door, a hand on Wade’s mouth to muffle his complains.

There is a scratching sound, now, and Peter quickly gets up to open the door; Meatball runs in, happy to have received permission to enter.

“Oh, honey, were you feeling alone?”

Wade gawks at him and the dog as Peter picks him up and brings him to bed; there is a trail of saliva on a corner of his mouth and a hickey is slowly forming on his slender neck. Wade gulps when the young man puts back his boxers and gets back into bed, Meatball still in his arms.

“Wade, can he sleep with us? Only for tonight?”

Peter’s eyes are pleading him, as well as his voice, and Meatball is doing his part by nuzzling his snout into his chest; Wade tries to protest, his arousal quickly fading away, replaced by a burning longing for Peter’s lips and warmth, then he sighs, pouts and nods. Peter lightens up like a Christmas tree.

The heater is on and the room is cozy and warm, so Peter puts the dog on the sheets, not letting him sleep directly on the bed, right between himself and Wade. The merc glares down at the dog, for the first time that day feeling annoyed by his presence. He can’t even cuddle properly with Peter if he is sleeping between them!

“Little beast.” he grumbles, tangling his feet with Peter and trying to reach him with an arm. He manages to do so, but Meatball is in the way and he doesn’t want to crush him, so he has to give up. Peter notices his discomfort and puts a hand on the pillow, so that Wade can at least grab that.

“You are lucky you are cute.” Wade continues, giving the satisfied pup a bad look. “Otherwise I would have already thrown you out of the window…”

“Wade.” Peter’s eyes are closed and even if he spoke warningly, there is a small smile on his lips.

Two minutes of silence, then: “I washed you. I caressed you. I gave you the best name ever. I chose for you that fancy, classy pink collar. I wished you goodnight. Why did you betray me like this?”

The dog opens his eyes and looks at him; Wade takes it as a sign to continue and does so, with a massive scowl: “If this is our first day together, I can’t imagine the next ones. No, really. How am I supposed to trust you after this? Maybe you will steal Peter from me, who knows! He already gave you a goodnight kiss before giving one to me!”

He doesn’t notice Peter’s twitching lips and goes on, while the puppy happily gets up and trots to him, pushing his arm to sneak under it: “I don’t care if you look like a dog version of Peter. You may have those cute, brown eyes and those flappy, fluffy ears, I don’t give a shit! You are still a big, sly asshole!”

He grunts when Meatball curls like a ball right against his chest; he even blushes when the pup gives him one last lick on a particularly deep scar and goes back to sleep. He stares at him some more, then his scarred features soften and, making sure Peter isn’t looking, he smiles and holds gently the dog with the hand that isn’t holding Peter’s.

He falls asleep like that and Peter, still awake, opens his eyes and smiles at the sight in front of him.

  
\- - -  
  


The next days are kind of hectic. Meatball learns quickly that the newspaper on the floor means he has to pee there, but he often misses it or doesn’t make it on time; one morning Wade finds his boots drenched with pee, two days later Peter’s bag is the unlucky victim.

Meatball has also the bad habit of chewing things; thankfully he doesn’t seem to like hard materials like wood or plastic, but he adores leather and gummy things, so Wade’s boots are once again mistreated and ruined. One day he also finds their spandex costumes inside the closet and Peter’s horrified gasp in front of his torn Spider-Man suit is beyond epic.

Despite all of this, the puppy is a shining light in their life. Even if he still sleeps with them, Wade can’t bring himself to glare at him anymore. He tries to hide it, but he can’t stop smiling when the dog plays with his hands, barks cheerfully at him and licks every inch of his face. He calls him names and pretends to grunt at him, but even the dog knows he doesn’t really mean it. Peter knows it for sure and always stops to look at them playing or watching the TV together before joining them. They are a funny trio: the big, scarred man, the lean, skinny man and their brown, cute dog that loves peeing on boots and chewing spandex.

A month later, while they are laying on the bed with the puppy between them, Peter asks softly, a whisper pronounced in the dark: “Wade, are you happy Meatball is with us?”

“I got used to feel his fur when we are in bed.” Wade jokes; they found the right position to cuddle together without squishing him and he’s glad he can hug Peter and feel his touches now. Still, he doesn’t mind Meatball’s presence in bed, not anymore.

“I didn’t mean only that. In general. Are you happy he is living with us?”

Wade can see the seriousness in Peter’s eyes and hear it in his tone, so he doesn’t fake his love for the pup this time and admits sincerely: “Yes, of course. He is a little rascal that destroyed three pairs of boots and annihilated our costumes in a single day, but he is _our_ rascal. Why do you ask, Petey?”

Peter smiles and moves closer, resting his forehead against Wade’s, mixing their hot breaths.

“Because… this could be a good practice.”

“A good practice for what?” Wade giggles, absentmindedly caressing Meatball’s neck with a finger. “Oh God, you want to open a doggy day care? We could do that! We have had this ball of fur for a month now and he is still fine, so it means we can’t be that bad at taking care of dogs.”

There is happiness and pride in his voice, he knows, and Peter notices them too, because he laughs softly and agrees: “You are right, we are doing a very good job. But I wasn’t talking about a doggy day care. I think… I think this could be a good practice for… they are not the same thing, of course! B-But…”

“Petey, breathe.” Wade chuckles, moving his other hand to stroke his cheek. “What do you want to say?”

“I think…” Peter lowers his voice, suddenly shy, and concludes: “I think this is a good practice for taking care of children.”

Wade stiffens, taken aback. He and Peter have been married for years, now, and he looks at their golden rings visible in the dim light. Clearing his throat, he replies, equally softly: “Kids are different from dogs, Petey.”

“I-I know! They are not the same things, they need different things, a different kind of care, but they are also similar.” Peter inhales and exhales, grasping Wade’s hand and pressing it against his cheek, and continues: “I think we can do this. I-I mean, we don’t have to if you don’t want! I just wanted to know what you thought about it…” the last words are a faint whisper and Wade has to breathe deeply for a few times before he can speak properly.

“You want to adopt.” he says clearly and Peter nods.

"I think a child would be happy to grow up with a dog as cute as Meatball. And Meatball would be so happy to have a friend to play with, they would grow up like brothers! You know he loves children.” the young man adds and Wade strokes his cheek again. “Wade, we would be two good dads, I am sure of it!”

Wade stays quiet for a while. He thought about adoption quite often, imagining his and Peter’s life with a kid. If the idea of a dog scared him a bit, the idea of child running around the house terrifies him, but he realizes that special feeling he feels every time he looks at Peter and Meatball together is caused by his desire to have a family with him. He desires to see Peter like that with a child too, to take care of a little boy or a little girl together.

He looks down at Meatball and then at Peter, whose eyes are filled with hope, expectation and a bit of worry.

“We don’t have to decide now, Wade.” he hurries to say, smiling. “It was just an idea and…”

“Okay.” Wade gulps, throat dry, and repeats: “Okay, let’s do it.”

“W-What?” Peter blinks, his eyes big and round like Meatball’s favorite ball.

“Let’s adopt.” Wade grins at him, energy flowing through him and making him tremble. “We are doing a pretty good job at raising this furry cutie here, doing the same with a brat can’t be that hard!”

Peter jumps forward and hugs him tightly, careful not to hurt the dog, and repeats with joy: “Wade, Wade, Wade…!” He sniffs and Wade holds him, pressing a kiss on his temple.

“Don’t cry, Petey! We will do that when the kid will start chewing our shoes and poop into your bag!”

“Kids don’t do that.” Peter laughs; he pulls back to take his head in his hands and says, with a tender, grateful smile: “Thank you, Wade.”

The merc blushes and hugs him back, shy. “Shh, shh.”

Meatball, bothered by the sudden commotion, stretches and yawns, then tries to get the two men’s attention with a loud bark and a paw scratching their arms.

“Did you hear that, Meatball?” Wade tells him as Peter picks him up and puts him back between them. “You are gonna have a new friend soon!”

The puppy barks, waving his tail, and Wade caresses his head, then kisses Peter and cuddles up with him, ready to fall asleep and start a new day filled with projects and excitement.

“We will have to buy some new toys!”


End file.
